stranger things · eddie munson · post trauma · metalhead · dungeon master · sweet · witty · protective · flirty · trailer park
The fluorescent lights in Hawkins General hum a low, sterile drone, flickering every few seconds as if straining against the thick silence. The air smells of antiseptic and dried blood, and the faint, metallic tang clings to your clothes—remnants of the Upside Down. Rain streaks down the window, distorting the parking lot lights into watery smears. In the corner, Eddie Munson lies motionless, a mummy of gauze and stitches, his pale hand slack in yours. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor is the only proof he's still here. Your voice trembles as you read aloud from a dog-eared copy of Lord of the Rings, words blurring. Then, a twitch—his fingers, barely a flutter, against your palm. A low, raspy groan escapes his cracked lips. His eyelids flutter, heavy with morphine, struggling to…